


Prayer of the Refugee

by littlequietone



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Alien Planet, Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlequietone/pseuds/littlequietone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy Joe doesn't fear death, he fears a collar. The Others will never catch him, not alive, anyway. He's been running too hard for too long for that. Vaguely, he wonders what Earth is like. But he wasn't born on Earth, he was born on Azhera. And what does that make him?</p><p>Disobedient livestock.</p><p> </p><p>NOT a Deathfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Living in a shell with no soul

_*12 years ago*_

The branches scratched Tommy's face, but he kept going. There was no going back. There was no stopping. Even so, he could hear them getting closer. He tightened his grip on his friend's hand and tried to pick up the pace, but for two small children, it was more than difficult to navigate through a forest. Never the less, he kept urging forward until he felt Brad slowing down. The younger boy collapsed in the leaves, on his hands and knees.

"Tommy Joe, I can't... I can't..." Tears ran down his face as he touched his leg where the tranquilizer dart had hit him.

Tommy knelt down infront of him and shook him by his shoulders. "We can't stop. Come on! We pulled the dart out! Get up!"

"I can't..." Brad was deteriorating quickly. His eyes began to droop.

"No!" Tommy hissed. "Damn it, Brad!" It was the first swear word to ever come out of his mouth. He was seven years old. "Fight it! Fight the sleep in your eyes!"

"Tommy..." Brad's body went limp as the drug took over. Tommy shook him frantically, tasting salt on his tongue from where his own tears had dripped into his mouth. He looked up in the direction they'd come. The sound of pursuit was getting louder and louder. Tommy made a soft hysterical noise. They were getting close. Too close. But Brad was here, helpless...

Tommy took off as fast as he could, leaving Brad behind. 

* * *

*present day*

He was going to have to change his hair color. Again.

The government had posted pictures of him all around, warning citizens to be on their lookout for the dangerous criminal. The pictures had been taken recently, showing him in shoulder-length black hair and baggy clothing. He could no longer look like that if he wanted to freely walk around. Pulling his hood up, he hurried to the nearest store and grabbed some hair dye. He was lucky he'd been in a large town when he'd noticed the fliers. Sure, there were more people who could spot him, but people in large towns knew less people, paid less attention. He could get by as a stranger, just another face in the crowd. 

He rented a room in a nearby motel and hurried inside. Long hair was convenient. He could always pull it back if he needed to. But now he had to look entirely different. When he was done with the blades and the dye, his hair was hacked short on the sides with a logn swath of bangs in the front and a slowly decreasing ridge in the middle, all nice and blonde. Well, at least he didn't look like the pictures any more. 

It was easy enough to get new clothing. He opted for skinny jeans and graphic t-shirts, very different than the cargo-pants and sweatshirts he'd worn before. With a new look, he was less likely to get caught. Make-up completed the outfit, just a bit of eyeliner. He glanced in the mirror when it was all through, taking in his new appearance. It was good enough, he couldn't complain. He'd never get used to seeing himself with blue eyes, though. The colored contacts had been hard to come by, but he knew a guy. And blue eyes were essential.

 _They_ all had blue eyes. 

It had been roughly a half a century since the Others had come to Earth. But they weren't invaders. They were kidnappers. They grabbed a group of humans, all young and healthy, and took them back to their own planet, Azhera. You see, the Others had a problem. They were dying. A disease had ravaged their planet and their bodies had no way to fight it. They'd looked at all the species on their planet for a cure and found none, so they had moved to other planets. That was when they'd com across the humans, who were completely immune to the disease. The humans had a gene, carried on the X chromosome, that combatted the virus. 

To the Others, it was a miracle. 

They were human-like, and soon found out that they could breed with humans and create fertile offspring. Female humans were brought over for that purpose because they had no choice but to donate an X chromosome. Male humans were not used for breeding because of the chance that they could donate a Y chromosome, and then the breeding would be useless. However, there was still a use for males. After all, the Others who were purebred had to be helped too. The Others found that they could take blood from the male humans and use their DNA to create a drug that would combat the virus. The drug was only effective for a few days, though, so it had to be administered regularly. So male humans were kept around like cattle to be milked, having their blood drawn every so often. 

They were kept like livestock. 

The original group of humans had been brought over to this planet fifty years ago. Most had been kept in great condition, used to breed halfbreeds, breed more humans, and donate blood. Some of them, however, had escaped, and their descendants still roamed the world, being hunted by the government.

Tommy didn't remember his parents much. He remembered the small camp they'd lived in with the other "feral" humans. There had been maybe two dozen of them at the time, all young parents and children. It was the mass of their group that was their downfall. So many "feral" humans in one place attracted a lot of attention and eventually, they'd been raided by the government. Tommy didn't know how many of them escaped. It didn't matter much. He was alone now. 

He moved about his life for a while, staying under the radar. He'd attracted too much attention to himself recently and he needed to take a break. He sat in a restaurant by the motel and picked at his "chicken". It wasn't really chicken, as they had different species on this planet, but it tasted the same if you closed your eyes. Money wasn't an issue for Tommy. Like all the Others, he had a small chip inserted in the palm of his left hand that held documents, including information for a bank account. He'd swiped the card off some dead guy in a mansion, then had craftily disposed of the body (with rocks. In a lake). It would only work for a certain amount of time before he had to find a new one, but for now, he was rich. 

It had been a little bothersome getting the man's personal information off the chip, but Tommy knew a guy. He was a human in a nearby feral camp that had a history in hacking and had figured out how to change the information on the chip. He'd given Tommy the new data he needed, some name, some number, just enough that Tommy could use the chip to buy things. Tommy really like the old man. He'd even dare to say that in another life, they could have been friends. But in this life, there was no safety in numbers and Tommy had refused the man's invitation to stay with their group. He'd moved on. 

Laying low was a bit difficult for Tommy. Sure, it was an easy thing to do, in concept, but Tommy just didn't like sitting around on his ass. Bored, he busied himself with learning everything that the government knew about him after his meal. It was easy enough to find in their databases and Tommy could access a computer at the local equivalent of a library. Might as well know what they knew about him.

He typed in "Feral 239", his designation. He couldn't help but smirk at the sheer number of files that came up. Oh yes, he'd been busy. He found all the old stuff: an article on his raid of a weapons dealery, a few buildings he'd burned down, vehicles he'd vandalized. As one person, he couldn't do anything huge, but he knew exactly how to be a little prick in the side of the government. As he'd grown older, he'd gotten progressively more daring. He was currently planning an attack against a nearby government building. But that's another story.

He scrolled through the files, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise. Hmm, so they'd figured out that it was him who'd blown up that schoolbuilding. Yes, he blew up a school. He'd waited until the kids were gone, because even if they were Others, they were still kids, and Tommy just didn't do kids. Weapons and the like were difficult to come by, but he knew where to go when he needed some explosives. He'd actually razed the building to the ground, and a big one. No wonder there were so many pictures of him around recently. That tended to happen when he did something particularly... naughty. 

He grinned to himself. They thought he was bad now? That wasn't the half of what he could do. 

He slashed someone's tires on the way home. Because, honestly, why the hell not? 

* * *

It took Tommy three weeks to get in trouble. It'd been a refreshing break, but Tommy lived to mess with the Others. Literally. He had no other goal. He'd been stupid this time, though. Shamefully, stupid, actually. He hadn't checked the building for an alarm system before he'd set it on fire. It was a stupid mistake. It was a _rookie_ mistake. He knew better. He swore at himself as he ran from the sirens, saying things that would impress a sailor. If there were sailors on this planet, Tommy thought almost hysterically.

He made it to the woods. If there was one thing he was good at, it was weaving through trees, branches, and roots. He'd had a _lot_ of practice over the years. And he was small, so he didn't have to duck as much to avoid low-hanging branches. He was pretty sure he'd get away from them, too. After all, this wasn't his first rodeo. That is, until he reached the clearing. Sure, he could weave his way through trees, but in a flat-out sprint, short legs were a curse. He moved as quickly as he could, aware that they were catching up to him. He wasn't afraid they'd shoot him. Oh no, he was a human, too valuable for that. Besides, he didn't fear death.

He feared a collar.

He'd been running along the side of a cliff that boardered the clearing. It hadn't taken him long to figure out the group that was chasing him wasn't actually the "cops", but the owners of the property. That was how they'd gotten there so fast. No matter, they were usually weaker. He could take them down if they caught him, even if there were more than two. The problem was, that would take time, and then the government officers would catch up to him. And that, that was a problem.

Suddenly, the ground crumbled underneath him. He reached out, hands grabbing for anything. He mnaged to cling onto the edge of the cliff. He could hear the shocked yells of the Others as they saw him fall. He quickly thought up a plan of attack. He knew they'd help him up, citizen Others were like that, and then he could attack. He was pulled from his thoughts by a very specific yell.

"Hang on, Tommy Joe!"

Tommy went cold. He knew that voice. Older now, deeper, but the same. That voice...

Tommy let go of the edge of the cliff. 


	2. Kik'ka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy meets a halfbreed.

Tommy Joe was glad it had just been a dream. When he woke up in a soft, comfortable bed, he groaned. It may have just been a dream, but it had been a long time since he'd dreamed about Brad. It wasn't until he noticed that the sheets in the bed were black that he realized he was not in a hotel room or the bed in the apartment he'd rented out.

He jumped out of bed and the world went sideways. His hands reached out for anything to keep him from going down. His head hurt like a bitch and he was pretty sure he'd done something horrendous to his ankle because despite grabbing the edge of the headboard he still went out. His right ankle had decided that today was not going to be a standing sort of day, much less walking. Once the world began to hold still (mostly), Tommy catagorized his injuries. Concussion, probably. An ankle that was either broken or sprained, and blue-black bruises _all over_ his body, mostly on his right side. It wasn't until he noticed them that they began to hurt. The injuries were all consistent with falling down the side of a cliff.

It had most definitely _not_ been a dream. 

He tensed when he heard the door open and wished he had his backpack with its two knives. Even hurt and weaponless, he was ready to fight for his life.

"Are you okay?" The person, male, crouched infront of him, looking down at him. The bright blue eyes gave it away instantly. It wasn't a person at all. It was a halfbreed, if not a purebred Other. It had all the signs, bright blue eyes, slightly pointed ears, slightly pointier canine teeth, and a slight accent. The Others were all masters at language and had decided, just for the hell of it, that English was fun and they were going to pick it up. Tommy Joe really didn't get that, but it did make things easier.

"Do I look okay to you?" Tommy couldn't help but hiss. He needed some painkillers and a monster cup of coffee.

"Let's get you back into bed." The Other helped him up and back into the bed. Tommy took the chance to size him up. He had fair skin with some freckles, showing that he was a halfbreed, because the purebreds all had perfect skin. His hair was black, although Tommy couldn't tell if it was dyed that way or was natural. He was... decent-looking, Tommy had to admit. But he was fucking huge. Stupidly so, actually, tall with long legs and a strong build. Tommy had learned long ago not to let size intimidate him, but there was just something about knowing someone could easily throw you over their shoulder and carry you like a child...

Tommy looked down at himself, noticing that he was not in his clothing, but in a t-shirt and an oversized pair of sweats. He blushed. He couldn't help it. Someone had changed his clothes. He was suddenly very grateful he'd gotten his ears twisted to have points and his canines filed sharper. It made him harder to detect as a human. There were other differences, but none as easily detectable.

"Sorry, they were dirty," the Other said. "I washed you off. How did you get in the middle of the woods, and with such injuries?"

"I... was hiking," Tommy lied quickly. "And I must have fallen."

"It's a good thing I found you. Do you need to go to a hospital?"

"No!" Tommy said quickly. "No... I'm fine."

"Well, at least stay here for a few days until you're more healed," the Other said. He laughed suddenly. "Oh, how rude of me. I'm Adam."

Tommy bit back a remark about how human of a name that was. The Others had really embraced humanity. Adam probably didn't even think about how strange it was to have a name from another _species_. Others, even halfbreeds, tended to live in these perfect little worlds where nthing went wrong. Tommy suddenly had the urge to break every bone in Adam's face. His hands fisted at his sides and he rolled so that he wasn't facing Adam.

"I'm Tommy."

* * *

"It's not broken."

"It's definitely broken."

"It's NOT broken." A broken ankle meant Tommy would be off it for a while. He might need to go to the doctor. He'd need help moving around. It _wasn't_ broken.

"You should probably go to the doctor."

Tommy bit back some very innappropriate language and fixed the best puppy-dog eyes he could manage on his face. "But... I'm afraid of doctors."

Adam's eyes widened and he stared at Tommy for a second before looking away. "Well, you're lucky that I'm a med student. I might be able to help. So hopefully you won't have to go to a doctor."

Okay, so the puppydog eyes had worked. Unfortunately, Tommy had just figured out, by the dark desire in Adam's eyes, that the halfbreed might be gay. Which was not good. Tommy didn't _do_ romance. It just didn't fit into his reality. He hadn't even had sex (shut the fuck up, no one asked you). Adam went into a nearby closet and brought out some medical supplies. He had Tommy sit on the bed as he wrapped his ankle in an oddly cool cloth. It numbled the pain just by touching the skin. And Tommy found that when Adam finished wrapping, the cloth hardened into a sort of cast. Tommy would never understand the advanes the Others had made in the medical and scientific fields, and, honestly, he didn't want to.

Adam flitten around the room, straightening things and taking Tommy's clothes out of the washing machine. The guy took up too much space. It wasn't just his size, it as his presence. Before, the room had been empty. Now it was full of him. He could be any age, really. Others started specializing in careers at a very young age. "How old are you?"

Adam glanced at him. "Sixteen."

Okay, fuck. Stupid fucking sixteen-year-old giant who was much larger than Tommy had been at that age. "And you live alone?"

Adam nodded. That also wasn't uncommon for teen Others and halfbreeds. "How old are you?"

Tommy tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes, giving off an air of arrogance he didn't feel. "Nineteen."

Adam's eyebrows raised, but he said nothing. Smart boy. Tommy often got mistaken for someone much younger.

"I've never met someone like you, Tommy," Adam said.

"What do you mean?"

Adam grinned. "You're like a little _kik'ka_ with it's back arched, all small and defiant."

A _kik'ka_  was basically their equivalent of a cat. Tommy decided he could really learn to hate this guy.

* * *

Tommy found out the next day that Adam was amazing at making coffee.

Previous statement about hating him nullified.


	3. Getting Away with Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long-ass wait, guys. It's been busy here. Exams, a roommate with a concussion, and a very ill cat. My poor pretty kitty.

Warm. It was so fucking warm. And comfortable. Tommy snuggled close, burying his face in the softness and inhaling the slightly spicy scent. He could have stayed there forever, wrapped up in comfort and safety.

It was the ache that brought him back to reality.

His side ached from the fall. His head still sported a large bump. There was no comfort here. There was no safety. He was being hunted because of who he was and what he'd done. There was no place for him here. 

He shoved away from Adam, blushing when he realized that the halfbreed was awake and looking at him. Defiance kicked in. "What the hell? Why were you cuddling me?"

"You were talking in your sleep," Adam said. "I was trying to calm you. It seemed to work." His eyes were a bit too intense.

Damn smug touchy-feely halfbreed. "What was I saying?"

"You were talking about someone named Brad," Adam said. He cocked his head to the side. "Is he your lover?"

Tommy choked and held his side. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts! Brad was like my brother. That'd be so gross."

Adam looked like he wanted to say something. Tommy squirmed uncomfortably under the intense blue gaze. Adam seemed to let it go, though. "Let's get you something to eat. Do I need to call anyone?"

"No," Tommy said without thinking.

Adam blinked. "Tommy, you're missing. People are going to worry."

"No one's going to worry, Adam."

"But Tommy..."

"Let it go!"

"What are you so afraid of?" 

Tommy flinched, his eyes narrowing. Adam was looking at him too intently. "I'm not afraid."

Adam searched his eyes and Tommy felt like his soul was being ripped out. However, he refused to look away. He would not back down. Eventually, Adam's eyes softened and he reached out. Tommy jerked back a bit, sucking in a sharp breath and closing his eyes. But Adam's hand landed softly on his head, running through his hair. Tommy slowly relaxed, opening his eyes. No one had ever touched him like that. It was almost like Adam was petting him. No one touched Tommy without reason. Ever. He didn't have friends. 

For a moment, he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it. He made a soft sound when Adam tugged on his hair slightly. His eyes opened in surprise when he felt something warm and soft touch his forehead. Adam was giving him a soft kiss, almost like a kiss you would give a child. Tommy pulled away, and Adam let him. 

"I'm not a baby," Tommy said, trying to regain some sort of dignity when he really just wanted to crawl into Adam's lap. It was so strange. He'd never wanted to be close to someone like that before. 

Adam laughed softly. "I know that. Why don't you lay down for a while? I'll bring you something to eat. Don't want to put too much strain on your injuries."

Tommy sighed and laid down on the bed.

* * *

A few days passed and Tommy was surprised to see how fast he was healing. Damn Other technology. At least he would be able to leave soon. He felt like Adam was babying him. It was mortifying. He was the older one. Adam was a naive child. Fuck. Whatever. Adam was a fantastic cook. Everything he cooked was stupidly healthy, however. Tommy would have given anything for a taco. 

Adam was also an earlier riser by Tommy's standards. Of course, Tommy preferred switching the morning with the afternoon. That morning, however, Tommy woke up early. He would have gone back to sleep, but he could smell the temptation that was coffee and his legs were carrying him to the kitchen before he could think. Adam made great coffee. 

He had just walked into the kitchen when he heard Adam speaking to someone from the other room. 

"Yeah, he's all flighty and stuff. I guess that explains it... Is he really wanted for all that? He seems to sweet... Yeah, I know I'm unassuming... Well, can you blame me? This guy is really my type... So you think we can control him with Brad?"

Tommy went still, not even daring to breathe.

"Alright, but take it easy. I'll keep him here." 

Adam walked into the kitchen and stopped dead. "Tommy Joe..."

Tommy's fists clenched. He hadn't told Adam his middle name. Adam advanced and Tommy went into survival mode. He scrambled for anything he could to defend himself. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. It wasn't unil he heard a gasp that he realized he'd moved. He was holding the hilt of a kitchen knife he'd grabbed, the other end buried inside Adam's gut. They both stared at it, at the hot blood pouring out of the would. Adam fell to his knees and Tommy stumbled back. He glanced at the blood on his hands before turning and running. 

Now he'd be wanted for murder. 


	4. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flexing mah brain muscles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my kitty cat's birthday! He's a year old today!

How fucking long did he have? Not fucking long enough. He hurried to where he stashed his stuff, a tiny house he'd bought on the edge of the town and surprisingly close to where Adam's place had been. The thing didn't even have furnature. He didn't live in it, after all. It was just a place to store important things. 

Like guns.

Tommy knew they would be after him soon. As soon as they discovered Adam and found Tommy's fingerprints at his apartment.

Fuck. Adam. Adam had been _nice_ to him.

"Fuck," Tommy Joe whispered, walking as fast as he could without running through the town. Luckily, his picture wasn't out yet, not that he could tell. But it would be soon enough. Even if they didn't find Adam's body soon, Adam had been on the phone with _somebody_ , so they would know how he'd changed his appearance. It was just a matter of time. 

When he got to his house, he unlocked it with the chip in his hand and closed the door quickly behind him. He grabbed one of the backpacks he had stored there and began to throw things in it. Pants and shirts, not particularly fashionable but hardy. Tough boots. Things he could run in. He threw in a few guns for good measure. Just enough. He had to get out of town and he had to get out NOW. He had to disappear for a while and never, ever come back here. He couldn't be weighed down by much. He'd find food and water somewhere. 

He swung the backpack over his shoulder and grabbed a few pocket knives, which he shoved in his boots. One gun that he tucked into the back of his pants, the smallest gun and hidden by his clothing. Sure, the backpack might hit it and it would hurt like a bitch, but he didn't have a holster so fuck it. Lastly, he grabbed a knife and sliced into his hand for the chip. It was possible they could track him with it. Tears sprung to his eyes and he let out a small sound. But it had to be done. When he finished, he wrapped it with some gause he'd stolen and hurried out, eager to get going as quickly as possible. 

He glanced at himself in the mirror before he left, an old piece of junk, propped up against the wall. The only thing in this house that wasn't weapons or provisions. He paused when he saw himself. His eyes were wide and his skin pale, giving him a sort of shell-shocked look. Hesitating, he looked around the house. It wasn't much, but it had been _his_. A safe place, of sorts. He'd had it for a few years now. He gritted his teeth and hurried out at the thought.

It was stupid to think he'd ever had anything.

* * *

He hid in the woods. A vast forest to the east. He'd been there before, a long, long time ago. He knew of several small feral settlements that existed on it's boarders, but he avoided all of them. He had no doubt he'd be hunted. They were close, after all. They almost had him. And he couldn't bring that kind of attention to other feral humans. It was every human for himself, but he wouldn't knowingly put others in danger when he could avoid it.

Besides, he didn't want to see anyone right now.

His feet were far past protesting when he decided to stop. They'd protested hours ago. Now they'd settled into a deep ache with a few sharp spurts of pain, submitting hopelessly to his endless walking. He'd stopped at what looked to be ruins. By the construction, he could tell humans had lived here once upon a time. It looked at if it'd been burned down. It was probably the home of one of the larger groups that sprung up right after the first humans had escaped. They were quickly crushed and since then, groups of that size were a rarity. He touched the charred wall, biting his bottom lip. It was haphazardly made, with rock and long-dried mud, but it was sturdy, it had survived. Someone had known what they were doing when they built this.

He knew he should move on. This would be an obvious place to look. But... for nights he'd slept on the ground, under cover from plants he couldn't name and knew could be poisonous. It had been raining for the past day and a half. In here... it was dry. Covered. That got the better of him.

He nearly collapsed to the ground, pulling his backpack to rest his head on and curling in a ball, searching for warmth. His feet sighed in relief when he took his weight off them. His body ached, and while he knew it wasn't safe, he couldn't help but close his eyes. Sleep murmured lies of safety in his ears.

That was the first night he dreamed of Adam.

* * *

_"Tommy Joe!"_

_"What, Adam?" Tommy asked, walking out with their drinks. It was some fruity concoction. Tommy had wanted to get something alcoholic, but Adam wouldn't let him. Sure, he was younger than Tommy, but there was a dominant personality in him that was beginning to form. In just a few years, he'd be one hell of a man._

_"I taught it how to shake." Adam guestured to a small animal he was kneeling next to. It was furry and cute._

_Tommy chuckled. "You and cute things. What is it?"_

_"It's a kik'ka," Adam said. "It's you, Tommy."_

_"What?" Tommy glanced at it, to see it was as light-colored in fur as his hair was, blonde, with cute brown eyes and a collar on it that read "Tommy". It... those eyes. It **was** him. _

_He heard a voice in his ear. Mark, an Other that had been on his trail for years, that had made it his goal to catch Tommy. "Looks like Feral 239 finally got caught."_

* * *

Tommy awoke with as gasp, sitting straight up despite his body's protests. As soon as the panic subsided, it rose again. He could fucking _hear_ them. The hunters. They were close. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the shrieks of pain in his body. This was no time to be tired and sore. He had to get out. There was only one good entrane and exit. He couldn't get trapped in here. 

He left his bag. It would only weigh him down with them this close. He took off through the forest, going for the most dense part he could find. Hopefully his tree-weaving skills would come in handy. He stopped when he saw the uniforms. 

He was circled. 

Some of the Others advanced. He grabbed the gun from the back of his pants frantically. They froze when they saw it, getting guarded looks on their faces. 

"Fucking move!" he snapped, pointing it straight at them. When they didn't move, he pulled the trigger, watching them scatter to avoid the bullets. He fled through the small opening. 

He only got so far before they grabbed him, knocking the gun from his hand. He yanked out one of his knives. But as soon as he saw the glint of the blade, Adam's bright eyes flashed through his mind. Adam, who had wrapped his wounds. Adam who had fed him. The nightmare had left an uneasy feeling in his stomach, but he just couldn't get rid of the image of Adam on the floor. 

That one moment of hesitation was his downfall. Three of them got him down. These weren't citizen Others. These were trained hunters. He fought, but there were so many of them, so much weight on top of him. He felt the sting in his skin before he saw the needle. He screamed obscenities, anything he could think of, before the darkness claimed him. 

 


	5. I'm Still Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy meets his new owner.

"Feral 239." The other let out a long, low whistle. "Didn't think we'd ever catch him."

"We were lucky," one of the scientists said. "I feel that it's only because of the condition he's in that we caught him. He's severely dehydrated at the moment. It also looks like he hasn't eaten much in the past few days. On top of all that, his body is exhausted and he's nursing some old injuries. His ankle must be still causing him pain. If his body weren't betraying him with it's weakness, he probably would have gotten away."

Mark spoke, an Other that had been tracking Tommy nearly all his life. "We would have gotten him eventually."

The scientist snorted and spoke softly. "You didn't before."

Mark was just about to give his snarky reply when one of the assistants ran in. "Feral 239 has woken up!"

* * *

Tommy Joe drifted for a long time. It was against his nature to wake up quickly. He was NOT a morning person. But over the years, he'd conditioned himself to spring away when he was in danger. The moment the memories hit him, his entire body went rigid. Instinctively, he fought to get up, letting out a near inhuman sound when he found he was bound to the bed. Padded restraints circled his ankles and his arms at his side. A padded belt went over his chest, stopping him from sitting up. He pulled hard against them, twisting his hands to test them. 

" _Motherfucker!_ "

"You'll hurt yourself, you know." An Other walked in, a female scientist. "My name is Sophie. You're Feral 239, Tommy Joe."

"Don't call me that," Tommy snarled. 

"You should be careful. Your body is weak, and your ankle is still not fully healed. Don't struggle like that."

Tommy proceeded to yank hard on the bind that secured his hurt ankle, ignoring the spurt of pain. He might have been able to put a little more _fuck you_ into the motion, but some might have sloshed out the sides. He wanted to get at the IV in his arm more than anything. It burned him inside to know that they were doing anything to him. He glared at the device with burning hatred.

"You were dehydrated," Sophie said. "As well as weak. There's not anything bad in it." She paused. "But I know you won't trust that."

"Mark's here, right?" Tommy asked, not acknowledging what he said.

"Yes. You know his name?"

Tommy let out a harsh bark of laughter. "We've met a few times. He doesn't like me. He's an idiot."

"Or you're just evasive," she conceeded.

He let her have that one.

She picked up his chart. "You were given a physical while you were unconscious and some medicine to speed the healing of the injuries you're nursing. Other than not eating, drinking, or sleeping enough, you're fairly healthy. You will be tagged and given to an Other who has a good track record of taming older Feral humans."

Tommy snorted, unable to stop himself from grinning. "You think you can tame me? Really? After all this time, all the horrible things I've done, you're just going to give me off as a pet? Shouldn't I be like, _humanely euthanized_ for your protection, or something?"

"You're strong, Tommy Joe. We feel we can learn a lot from humans like you. We also don't usually euthanize wild animals. It's not their fault they bite." She flipped through his chart. "Of course, you will be kept under close observation and control until you learn not to bite. Your new owner's name is Sutan. He's had his eye on you for quite a while. He is a purebred, so he has a human pet already. His name is Brad. I believe you two have a past."

Tommy's eyes narrowed and he looked away.

"It will be good for you to have a friend while you're being trained."

"Brad's not my friend." Not anymore. Tommy had severed that tie a long time ago. Now Brad was one of the pets, one of the compliant ones. As far as Tommy was concerned, that friendship was over.

"You will be prepared for pickup by Sutan momentarily. Try not to hurt anyone. Or yourself."

* * *

It took Tommy five minutes to figure out violence was not the answer. They'd put a collar on him, strong enough that he couldn't break it off. Everytime he moved to hurt one of them, he was zapped so hard that his legs gave out from under him. He knew the collars weren't used on regular human pets. They were just keeping it on him until he was "tamed". So he sat against the wall, waiting. No reason to fight right now. He'd save that until he had a plan. Or until someone pissed him off.

An Other walked in, tall and dark. Thin and quite good-looking, actually. He smiled. "I'm Sutan. Nice to meet you, Tommy Joe."

"Tommy," Tommy corrected.

Sutan raised a brow. "Brad calls you Tommy Joe. I thought that's what you liked to be called."

"It is." That was the point.

Sutan chuckled. "Tommy, then."

They slipped into Sutan's car, Tommy putting his best _fuck-you-I-don't-care_ expression on. "I'll get you some clothes and stuff," Sutan said. "But you'll be confined to my house until you can be trusted." When Tommy didn't answer, Sutan chuckled. "Adam's right, you're stubborn."

Tommy couldn't help but squirm uncomfortably. He wasn't opposed to defending himself, but Adam had never seemed much of a threat. He couldn't help but feel guilty.

Sutan glanced at him. "He's alive, you know."

Tommy's head snapped to the side, staring at Sutan before he could control himself. "What?"

"Oh, you did a number on him," Sutan said. "But he survived."

Tommy sank into the seat, his emotions conflicting. On one hand, he felt... relieved that he didn't kill Adam. But he didn't want to feel relieved. Adam was a halfbreed. Adam was his enemy, like all of them. He closed his eyes and blocked out Sutan for the rest of the ride, unwilling to deal with any more today. After all, it was pushing himself too hard that got him into this mess. When they got back to Sutan's place, he was led to his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brad. Much older now, but definitely him. He didn't even look at him.

Brad had no place in his life now.


	6. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a hard time fitting into his new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've let this one go so long! I've had a hard time figuring out what I wanted to do with it. Listened to Adam as I wrote this :)

Wake up in the pet room. Breakfast in the main hall. Exercise routines outside. Lunch in the pet room. Various activities in the afternoon. Dinner at a restaurant. "Bonding" at night.

He missed his old life. He missed being able to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it. It had only been about four days, but monotony was already working it's way into his bones and he was about to shave the other half of his head in frustration. He missed the sun, the trees in the woods he so often stay in. He even missed the less desirable parts. He missed hidin, being able to dissappear at the drop of a hat. He missed knowing that no one knew where he was. He missed not knowing where his next meal was going to come from. He missed the anticipation of stealing something, the satisfaction of a good theft.

He stood, looking out the one window in their room. It'd been freshly barred, probably for him. Meant that it hadn't been barred for Brad. He wrapped his hand around one of the bars and squeezed, feeling a deep slice of betrayal, knowing his once best friend was now a compliant lap dog. 

"Did you enjoy the movie tonight?" Brad asked softly, sitting on his bed. They were the only two humans in this complex, and shared the room. Tommy didn't even turn around, just narrowed his eyes, staring at the bars. Brad had been trying this conversation thing for a while now and Tommy was just waiting for him to give up. Brad could have his happy little doghouse. Tommy wanted more.

"Does it really have to be like this?" Brad snarled, getting frustrated. 

Tommy owed him at least an answer to that. For leaving him so long ago. "Yes."

"We could be happy here!"

He didn't plan on responding, but the one word seemed to have unglued his lips and he heard his voice on the air before he realised he'd even spoken. "No, _you_ could be happy here. _You_ could be happy curling up on the foot of his bed, but I can't. I can't stand this house, these bars, this damn collar around my neck!"

"The collar will get removed once they can trust you."

"You mean once I _behave_." He turned around, brown eyes bright with fire. "Once I give up and submit. But I can't. You may have been tamed, but I never will be. I've been running too hard for too long to just give it up. I will get out of here, or I'll go down trying. They can euthanize me if I'm too much of an issue."

"So you'd rather die than live here?" Brad snapped.

"This isn't living!" Tommy retorted. He stalked over to his bed and laid down, staring at the ceiling. "I know what living is."

"No, you know what running is." Brad just wouldn't give up.

"I was my own person! I was free! But it seems you've forgotten that feeling."

"I haven't forgotten," Brad hissed out, voice now no more than a harsh whisper. "But I was a child, weak and alone. Sutan offered me a place to call home, a chance to get off the market. He's not so bad, if you get to know him. I actually kind of like him. And living here is a lot more free than some other houses, where humans are kept in cages. He trusts me, and I trust him. It is what it is, so I've made the best of it and tried to be happy."

Tommy rolled onto his side and pulled the blanket over himself. This conversation was over; it shouldn't have started to begin with. He had an aching feeling that he should apologise to Brad for leaving him, for letting go of that hand and running off, leaving the boy to fend for himself. But he just closed his eyes and waited for his dreams, where he could run in the woods and sneak through the cities, and they couldn't do a damn thing about it.

* * *

It was his first milking. The Others needed human blood to make the serum, and that was what Tommy was for. At first, he didn't realise what was going on. He was led around to all sorts of places, so he was used to following the workers. Just another day.

The first thing that tipped him off was the number of Others around. Normally, there was just Sutan and a few more purebreeds. Halfbreeds were the ones that were around the most often. But today, there were many Others who just seemed to be... waiting. Looking at him and whispering. He flicked a few of them off for good measure, just so they knew he wasn't like Brad. He bit.

They took him to get a picture, placing him infront of a blank screen. He tilted his head down and looked up through his hair. If he was going to get his picture taken, might as well eye-fuck the camera. He even let a little smirk grace his lips. Becayse it was a look that promised he wasn't finished yet. They hadn't broken him. Despite his bravado, he was getting more nervous by the second. Something was just off. This wasn't a regular day. When they took him into the room and he saw the donating table...

His pulse skyrocketed. He had just enough self-control not to bolt right then and there. They were expecting him to, anyway. He did stop walking, making them push him a bit before he moved again. He had to give them something, because if he acted like it was nothing, they wouldn't buy it. He let out a few choice words as he got on the table, making his displeasure known, playing the act of being very unhappy, like he should have been, but grudgingly going through with it. And then he waited, waited until the right moment. He actually let them stick him and take the pint of blood. They'd kept too many eyes on him and he couldn't do anything. But as he sat there, letting them drain some of his blood, they'd relaxed. The guards turned and the physician moved to put the bag away. That was when he acted. 

He jumped off the bed and shoved the table over, sending every tool skittering across the floor and several bags of blood crashing down. They split open and painted the floor a sickening red. But Tommy didn't have a weak stomach. As the guards ran close, he grabbed glass vials and beakers and began chucking them. Some of them hit, and even those that didn't covered the slick floor in shards of glass. Several of the guards fell, gasping in pain. He scrambled around the bed, knocking over the machines but not checking to see if they were broken. He was too busy making his own little tornado in the room. Dozen of papers were on the floor, soaking red in the blood.

Electricity jerked through his body from the collar. Someone had finally had the bright idea to shock him. " _Uhn!_ " He went down, body spasming, and soon they were on him, flipping him onto his stomach and cuffing his hands behind his back. He'd known they would pin him eventually, there were just too many of them and only one of him. But he laughed at the mess he'd made in the room, all the things they'd have to fix and replace. It was almost as good as burning a building. More satisfying than slashing tires. He laughed and laughed...

* * *

He'd been thrown in a waiting room. An _empty_ waiting room. Clearly they no longer trusted him with furnature, supplies, or anything else he could mess with. He smiled to himself and shook his head. Damn straight they had to watch themselves with him. He was never going to just roll over. Fuck them and their ideas. He'd fight tooth and nail all the way, and even when he couldn't win he'd give them a hell of a time going down.

The door opened and three Others walked in. Guards, he thought. Workers or something. That was what they looked like. Hate glinted dark in their eyes, and he gave them an ear-to-ear shit-eating grin, goading them. Their eyes narrowed in fury and he grunted as he was pinned to the gound on his face. The tile floor was not the most comfortable thing in the world. Turning his head to the side, he glared at them. 

"Your common sense doesn't work so well, human," one of them growled.

"Yeah, too bad my mouth works just fine, huh?" he spat back. 

"You'd do well to learn some respect?"

"Never was really one for learning. I never went to school, ya know?" Tommy batted his long eyelashes. 

"There are ways to break even the most stand-offish brat," the male Other said. "Hold him."

The two others held him down, one on either side. He fought, but with the cuffs still on, he couldn't do much. Still, he rolled and twisted until darkness washed over his vision and he had to stop, panting and waiting for it to come back. Fuck blood loss.

His eyes widened in panic as one of them yanked his pants and underwear down, exposing him. He fought as hard as he could with his weakened body, until nausea and dizziness and darkness made him lay still. Cold fingers touched his smooth skin and he flinched, unable to stop himself from gasping. Immediately, he bit his lip and quieted. He wasn't going to beg, he wasn't going to cry and act scared. They didn't deserve the satisfaction.

"It's a damn shame you're wild, as pretty as you are," the male said softly. 

His breathing came faster and faster as his hips his were pulled up, putting him on his knees with his bach arched and his chest pressed against the ground, held there by strong arms. He kicked and twisted, but to no avail. These were guards and they knew how to get a grip on someone. Pain exploded across his rear end as the guard roughly shoved in. He almost blacked out, his heart stuttering. He clenched his jaw to try and remain quiet, but the guard was huge and moving fast, with no concern for him. Warmth seeped down his legs and he had a passing thought that he really couldn't afford to lost a whole lot more blood, not with how small and skinny he was. 

"AAAAAAAHHHH!" He screamed as there was an audible tear. But the guard didn't stop, only quickened.

And then there was darkness, and he knew no more...


	7. Face Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy begins to deal with his trauma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short... sorry. :/

He woke fighting.

It didn't do much. Restraints bit into his wrists and ankles, same as the straps that held his chest and hips down. The bed squeaked against the ground as he thrashed, yanking and twisting at the bonds, hoping they might break. When they didn't, and he finally settled down, a soft beeping filled his ears. He blinked and looked around, breath still snorting out of his nose like a racehorse from the exertion and the panic.

He was in his room. He knew the light brown walls and the muted curtains on the window. Brad's posters and pictures decorated one side of the room. It made his side look completely bare. It was, after all. With the exception of the wooden furniture, Tommy Joe had nothing. Sure, he had a colorful bedspread, but that had been forced on him by Brad who'd claimed he wouldn't stare at the white sheets everyday. White sheets that were currently soft under Tommy's skin. The beeping was from the machine next to his bed, monitoring him. He'd been given medical attention, IV fluids and such. 

He pulled again, lips curling up in a snarl. The bonds were padded so that he couldn't hurt himself, but pain shot through a different part of his body. And with it came the horror of it all, that he'd been so weak, so helpless. That despite Sutan's words, he wasn't safe here. Suddenly the baby blue hospital gown covering him didn't seem like enough. He pressed his legs tightly together and leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling. He wouldn't cry. He would NOT cry. He never cried. 

He jumped about a foot in the air when the door clicked open. His eyes shot wide, staring over like the eyes of an injured animal. Ready to fight, to protect itself, and damn the consequences. The fact that it was Brad did little to calm him. He had no friends here.

Brad walked over to him, eyes nearly as soft as his voice. "Hey." It was so gentle, so comforting that Tommy had to look away, blinking abruptly, trying to fight back the sudden burning in his eyes. He knew he should have snapped at him, demanded that he be unbound so that he could put some real clothes on, go along his merry way and get back to his monotone life. But the ache was thick in his hips, and fear filled him, not defiance. 

Along with the fear came shame. Shame that he'd been weak. Shame that he had let it happen. And strangely, shame that he'd goaded them. That he'd bitten off more than he could chew. He'd never felt that way before. Sure, he'd gotten in over his head before. He was used to making things worse for himself. But this was the first time he'd ever hated himself for it. For the first time, he felt like he should have submitted. Been good. His pain was his own fault.

"How are you feeling?" Brad sat down and reached out to lay a supportive hand on his shoulder. But just before they made contact, Tommy Joe flinched.

"Please don't touch me." Really? He said 'please'? What was this world coming to? He hated himself for it, hated this needy, begging part of him. But he hadn't been able to help the tight, pleading tone of his voice. 

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Brad retracted his hands and folded them in his lap. Meanwhile, Tommy studied the opposite wall, the small scuffs on it he'd made that Brad had tried to hard to clean. Another shock of shame coursed through him. He really was a fuck-up, wasn't he? Even if he hated it here, it seemed cruel to make Brad miserable.

"How are you feeling?" Brad asked, as if there was any good yet truthful answer to a question like that. Why did people ask questions that they already knew the answer to? _Sore_ , Tommy thought. _Tired, awful_. 

" 'M okay." His voice was small, but at least it wasn't shaky. "Take these cuffs and straps off." Damn, there should have been a swear word in there somewhere. Some sort of demanding aspect.

"You gonna be good?" Brad asked. "They don't want you to hurt yourself."

Who was this 'they' anyway? Because Tommy was pretty sure there were some people here who didn't give a damn if he was hurt. But it seemed he no longer had control of his tongue, like he didn't have control of so many other things. Because he wouldn't have answered this way. "Yeah, I'll be good."

Brad looked at him for a second, as if judging the sincerity of his words, before leaning forward and undoing the binds. Tommy tried not to flinch when Brad touched him. He pulled the IV out and grabbed some of the gauze that was on the table, quickly bandaging his elbow.

"Tearing IV's out is not good," Brad said, although his words didn't have much bite to them. 

"I'm sorry." There he went again, saying things that didn't fit. He didn't apologize for anything defiant. 

Without another word, Tommy Joe yanked open his drawers and dug through for some clothing, before heading into the bathroom. He'd changed in front of Brad before, but not this time. Not today. When he came out it was in baggy black sweats and a grey sweatshirt. Simple and soft. Something he could hide in.

"You should have kept the gown on," Brad soft chastised. "They'll want to examine you."

"I'm fine," Tommy said. "I'm surprised they didn't already."

"Well, they kind of did," Brad admitted, looking away and rubbing the back of his head. "But they'll probably want to again, now that you're awake." He hadn't moved from his chair beside Tommy's bed. He had a bandage over the inside of his elbow too. He'd donated. Well, duh, of course he had. Tommy shook his head, trying to clear it.

"I'm fine, really."

"No, Tommy Joe, you're not fine," Brad said. "Hell, you APOLOGIZED to me. You are so not fine."

"I'm just... tired." He hugged himself unconsciously, rubbing his arms with his hands. 

"You are not just tired. Tommy, it's okay to be upset, you were--"

"Don't say it!" Tommy snapped, making himself startle at the volume and sharpness of his own voice. But Brad couldn't say it. That would make it too real. And Tommy was barely holding himself together as it was.

Brad got up and moved over. Tommy held himself in place, refusing to take a step back and put distance between them. Luckily, Brad stopped just far enough away. "Let's go get something to eat, okay?"

Yeah, that was a safe topic. Tommy's stomach couldn't decide if it was starving, or if any amount of food would make it churn and lurch. But he might as well try. "Yeah, sounds good."

He followed Brad down the hallway, only a few feet behind him. He would move closer every time someone else came by. Brad wasn't foolproof, but he was safer than anyone else. Everyone was staring at him. Eyes that had previously been filled with hate and annoyance now held a sort of pity, the kind that you would feel towards a dog that got hit by a car. Tommy didn't want their pity. It was Others who had hurt him, they weren't allowed to pity him now.

As they moved into the clean kitchen, Tommy moved to sit down at the table. Pain lanced up his spine and he jerked back upright. Brad's glance said he noticed, but he didn't comment on it. He got them both some food, fruit for himself and what amounted to oatmeal for Tommy. He didn't say anything when Tommy only picked at it, didn't complain that he'd gone through the effort of putting it together just to have it not eaten. It was both comforting and agonizing, Brad's current gentleness. Tommy wanted to be treated the same, but he didn't know if he could handle it right now. He ducked his head, tucking his long front locks behind his ear.

"So you're up." Again, Tommy jumped at the new voice. He turned to face Sutan, who looked at him with the same sad eyes.

"I'm up." It was a lame response, but his mind wasn't really working well enough to give a smart-ass response.

"How are you feeling?"

"Why does everyone want to know how I'm feeling?" The sharp comment made enough line of shame go through him. He should be grateful. hHe should shut his mouth.  _No, I shouldn't, I should be just like I always am!_ he fought with himself. 

Sutan looked at him with eyes that were too understanding for his liking. "I have an idea."

"What?"

"Perhaps I'll call Adam. Maybe he'd like to come over and see you tomorrow."

Tommy Joe put his spoon down. Cue the churning of his stomach.


End file.
